


A Constant Reminder Of Where I Can Find Her

by lisachan



Series: City of Hidden Houses [8]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Spoilers, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisachan/pseuds/lisachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been almost a month since Sebastian broke free from the Gard and killed the Seelie Queen, putting an end to the Seelie War, and it's been a couple of weeks since the events that saw him get pardoned at the Hall of the Accord for the service he had unknowingly offered to the Nephilim. Jace hasn't gone back once to the Institute, yet, still angry at Alec for being unable to understand what he's doing and why. Sebastian doesn't mind spending time with his brother, though, especially since sharing a house lets him free to finally ask him something he's wanted to know about since Clary died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Constant Reminder Of Where I Can Find Her

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the new installment of the City of Hidden Houses series! I know, I've been slacking with updates, I've been slow. Inspiration follows its own whims, unfortunately, I can only bend to its rules, but I'll be very glad and thankful if you will read this new story too, especially since it's the one centered around Clary's funeral, as Jace tells it to Sebastian. I hope you enjoy ♥

Sebastian always knows when his brother’s around. It’s not just a feeling, though there’s usually some vague itching underneath his skin whenever Jace’s close, and it’s not just a physical sensation, though he can smell him, oh, he can, and he can sense how the air shapes itself differently when it’s got to welcome his body. It’s some sort of deep knowledge, a thread that’s always connecting them, that he can always follow, and at the end of which he’s always certain he’ll find him.

He comes back home, and the moment he passes through the door he knows Jace is still here. 

His lips curl into a smile he himself isn’t aware of, as he takes off his jacket and drops the keys on the table in the hall, making sure to be as noisy as he possibly can, to see if Jace will answer the calling and show up. He doesn’t: either he’s sleeping, or he’s busy, or he wants to be found.

Sebastian enjoys running after him, he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t. Time and closeness are working their magic on them, tying them together and keeping them out of harm’s way. There’s a distant sensation lingering in the back of his mind, the idea that, at some point, all these tiny bits of happiness, all these tiny bits of serenity they’re stealing from a reality that doesn’t offer any will come back to haunt them, and they’ll have to pay back with interests for that unauthorized loan. But for now, that moment is far away. It might even never come.

They’re playing hide and seek with pain. For now, they’re winning. That’s more than could be said up to just a month ago. If Jace wants to play the mouse to his cat for an afternoon, or even all the afternoons of their life together, for that matter, Sebastian’s more than willing to chase him.

He walks to the kitchen, because he’s hungry. He’s been out running all morning. The dimensional apartment opened its door near the Thames, today. Sebastian felt like enjoying London’s gray, damp, thick dawn air slapping him in the face as he ran, so he put on his gear and walked out. He’s been trying to keep himself in shape. Years locked up in the Gard haven’t worked well on him. He’s full of energy he needs to disperse, somehow, and Jace cannot help with all of it. 

Running feels good, better than exercising, almost as good as sparring. As he crossed the Millennium Bridge, he stopped for a moment, running on the spot, looking at the river down below, looking at it as it flowed slow and peaceful, seemingly without an end, and he experienced a moment of perfect peace, and he smiled. And he thought he wanted to see Jace, to share this with him. And then he felt hungry, as people who’ve been struggling for months do when the struggle stops, and he decided it was time to go back home.

He felt lighter. Lighter than he ever felt.

This is the path, he thinks as he grabs an apple, washes it and starts eating it in hungry bites. This is the path. Much like with the Thames, he can’t see the end of it, but he knows it’s safe to flow that way.

He walks through the house, looking through every door as he passes by, waiting for his eyes to meet his brother’s figure. He finds him in the bedroom, bare-chest, busy looking at a mark upon his forearm, right below his inner elbow.

It’s a red mark.

Sebastian stops on the door, looking at him. “Hey,” he says, to catch his attention.

Jace looks up and towards him, his lips curling into a vague smile. He looks like he’s been crying, though his eyes are dry, now. Sebastian swallows, lowering the apple. He’s never going to get used to see him this fragile. And he’s seen him fragile, over time. He’s seen him battered and broken along the way – he’s seen him, because _he_ was the one breaking him, and then staying after the show was over to enjoy the sight – but he’s never seen him as devastated as he is when he thinks about Clary.

“Hey,” Jace says. He reaches over to grab his shirt at the end of the bed, but Sebastian stops him, shaking his head.

“There’s no need,” he says, walking in, “Did you just wake up?”

“Yep,” Jace nods, sitting more comfortably on the bed, crossing his legs and leaning on his bended knees with both elbows, “I was sleepy.”

“You’re always sleepy,” Sebastian sighs, sitting in front of him. He doesn’t want to ask the question, but he will. “Any news from the Institute?”

Jace hasn’t gone back yet, since the Hall of the Accords. Sebastian highly doubts he and Lightwood even spoke. And he sure hasn’t seen his son either. Something that definitely needs fixing as soon as possible.

“No,” Jace answers with half a smile, “Why?”

“For all you know, they could be all dead,” Sebastian points out, looking sternly at him.

Jace averts his eyes, the shadow of a smile still lingering on his lips. “I’d know, if something bad had happened.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I don’t care for the point.” Jace turns to look at him. He’s not angry, not even annoyed. He does look tired, though. Sebastian sighs. “Come here,” Jace pleads, reaching out for him.

Sebastian moves on the mattress, sitting closer. “You’ll need to come back, at some point,” he says. 

“Are you worried about me?” Jace chuckles, amused.

“I am,” Sebastian answers. He’s being as honest as he possibly can without giving his heart away entirely. And he would do that too, if he only believed Jace strong enough to hold it in his hands without letting it slip. He isn’t, yet, so Sebastian must hold back. But he’s never been one to hold back his feelings. He knows, at some point, he’ll have to pour everything he has out on Jace. He’ll have to, just because he won’t be able to push it down anymore. By then, he hopes Jace is ready to handle it.

Jace smiles again, leaning in, pressing his lips against Sebastian’s. “You needn’t be,” he says, “I’m fine.”

“Please,” Sebastian groans, moving away. 

“No, I’m serious,” Jace chuckles again, “I’m content. This is one of the good days.”

“You were crying,” Sebastian replies. He looks at him straight in his eyes, so Jace knows he can’t lie. ‘Cause he will read it on his face, if he does.

Jace smiles softly. “I was,” he nods, “I was also staring at this,” he adds, showing the red mark. It’s a mourning rune. “And thinking about her.”

Sebastian tenses, gritting his teeth. Despite sharing the same kind of loss, Jace and him are facing it in two very different ways. Mainly because of the fact that Jace saw her die but could do nothing to avenge her. Sebastian did exactly the opposite, and so, of course, peace came first for him. Knowing he did all he could possibly do, knowing that blood has been spilt to make up for his beloved sister’s, knowing _he_ was the one spilling that blood, that it was _him_ who avenged her, gifted him with peace of mind. Something Jace cannot afford to give in to just yet.

“Would you look at me?” Jace asks in a soft whisper. Sebastian sighs and does it. “You don’t have to handle me as if I was made of crystal,” he says, “I already told you. I’m fine with you overwhelming me. I want you to. So stop holding back as if you were a prince and me the damsel in distress that needed rescuing, I can assure you the descriptions don’t fit reality at all.”

“I could argue about you not being in need of rescue,” Sebastian sighs again, passing a hand over his forehead, “I could list a few occasions in which—”

“You’re not listening to me,” Jace insists, pressing a hand over his mouth, “I’m telling you. You’re not here to keep me under a glass dome, and I’m not here to shelter myself from pain behind you. I’m here to share. To share everything. So what if I cried— the person I loved most in the entire world died.” His voice breaks a little and Sebastian holds his breath. “I have a right to cry, and so have you. To cry or… whatever you want, really.” He lowers his hand, breathing in and out in relief. 

Sebastian moves on his knees, crawling towards him. He presses his lips against his brother’s and kisses him slowly, feeling him tremble lightly for a few seconds, before calming down. He keeps kissing him until he’s alright again, and then sits back, as close to him as he possibly can without having to share the same spot on the bed.

“There is something I’d like for you to share with me,” he says, looking at him. Jace looks back, his lips curling into a vague smile, inviting him to speak out. “The funeral. I asked to be there, but I wasn’t granted permission. I said goodbye alone in my cell and I couldn’t even see her one last time.” He lowers his eyes, swallowing silently. “Can you tell me how it was?”

“I might not be the best person to give you an answer,” Jace says with an apologetic smile, “I wasn’t completely aware of what was happening. But I do remember a few things. I can just tell you those, if it’s okay.”

Sebastian just nods. There’s nobody else he’d ever ask the question to anyway. Nobody except Jace could ever tell him.

“I remember the people,” Jace starts out. His voice is thin, almost distant. Sebastian doesn’t even need to close his eyes to imagine the crowd, Nephilim coming from all corners of Idris, all corners of the world. His sister was a hero to as many as he was the Devil for. “For as far as my eyes could see, it was an ocean of white. I think most of them were crying. She wasn’t just a woman anymore, you know?” Sebastian can feel the smile in his brother’s voice. It hurts more than it would as if he simply cried. “She was an idea. A symbol. Hope itself incarnated. People came to mourn her, and to celebrate her too. I think… if she could’ve chosen, that’s what she would’ve wanted for her funeral. That she could be remembered, more than cried upon. That she could be remembered for what she had tried to do, if not for what she had done.”

Sebastian bites at his bottom lip, reaching out for Jace’s hand. He holds it in his own and squeezes it. He can’t speak a single word, because he knows if he spoke he’d start crying.

“Should I stop?” Jace asks softly. Sebastian shakes his head. “Okay,” his brother nods, “But come over here. Let me hold you.”

“I don’t need a hug,” Sebastian spits out, holding back the tears but unable to hide the trembling sound of his voice.

“No,” Jace says, “I do.”

Sebastian’s body moves forward in a swift, quick movement. He wraps his arms around Jace’s shoulders, holding him tight. He feels every single bone of his body pressed hard against every single bone of his own. It hurts like hell, and yet he couldn’t do without. 

“Do you wanna hear about her?” Jace asks softly. Sebastian nods. “She was so beautiful. You remember her, don’t you? She was as beautiful as she had been in life. Her skin so pale, her hair alight like flames. There was a beautiful sun shining on the cemetery, that day. It made them shine. Do you remember how they used to shine in the sunlight?”

“Yes,” Sebastian says. Jace’s voice is a claw, a pointy, sharp claw digging its way underneath his skin. It’s the venomous tip of an arrow coursing through his body, carried by his blood, aiming for his heart. It’s painful, it’s a torment. Has he ever suffered this much? He must’ve. He’s felt the Heavenly Fire burning through him. He felt the deep desperation and loneliness coming from losing a sister and not being able to do anything to bring her back. He must’ve felt pain, but all pain pales in front of what he feels listening to Jace talking about her, and about her last goodbye.

“She had her eyes covered with white silk,” Jace goes on, his voice dripping tenderness, “Her freckles seemed to roll down her nose as children down a hill in the summer. She was an ode to beauty, she was poetry. Death had done nothing to compromise her. I knew there had to be wounds, but I could see none. The seraph blade she held in her hand cast milky beams of light all over her face. Her skin was so perfect she almost looked as if she was still alive.” He stops for a second, sighing deeply. “I was crying so hard. And yet, I couldn’t make a sound. ‘Cause, you know, she looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb her, I guess.”

“Stop,” Sebastian struggles to say. He feels awful. He feels like drowning. He holds onto Jace as if they were lost at sea and only he could bring him safely back ashore.

Jace instantly shuts his mouth and holds his breath. He rubs Sebastian’s back with his own hand and breathes softly into his ear. “I’m sorry,” he says after a little while, “See? It’s not me who needs to be protected, Sebastian. I wish I had something more than pain to give you, but it’s all I’ve got now. It’s all I can give. I love you,” he says, his voice breaking a little, “But right now pain is all I have for you, brother.”

Sebastian bites at his lips again, pressing his face against the curve of his neck. He cries loudly, his shoulders shaking with sobs. This crying thing, it’s such a mystery. It always comes in waves. He can feel perfectly happy one moment, like this morning on the Millennium Bridge, and then something happens, and suddenly all he can feel is despair. And when it’s over he can be happy again. Though he knows it’s just temporary.

“I said a few words,” Jace reprises, speaking soothingly under his breath, “Though, if you asked me to recall what I actually said, I couldn’t come up with anything. I don’t know. It’s all foggy. I remember speaking while looking at her, and words came out my mouth but all I wanted to say was goodbye. So, when I was done talking, I walked to her. I wanted to kiss her, but I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t have left her if I had kissed her again. So I just whispered her my goodbye, and then I backed away.”

“Did you see her?” Sebastian sobs, his voice louder than he’d wanted it to be, “Did— Did you see her burn?”

Jace nods, slowly. “I did,” he says, “I stood by her until she was dust and shadow. And then I followed her, together with the others, as she was put into the urn and buried into the Fairchild tomb. It felt like she was still there with me. As I walked away, I didn’t feel alone. Sebastian,” he backs away a little, holding his brother’s face in his hands and looking at him, “Listen to me. There are times in which I feel alone, and everything is painful ‘cause everything reminds me of her. Sometimes I hate her for leaving me behind, but she didn’t.” He holds Sebastian’s hand, brings it to his own arm, over the red mourning mark. “She hasn’t. She’s with me at all times. And she’s with you, too.”

“No,” Sebastian shakes his head, trying to pull away, “No, Jace, she isn’t.”

“She is,” he insists, squeezing his hand to make it impossible for him to move too far, “I’m telling you. She is. ‘Cause she never gave up on you. Can’t you see? She could’ve killed you. But she cleansed you. She _saved_ you, Sebastian, as she saved me. That’s why she’s always with us. Because— Because through everything, Sebastian, she always reached out for us, and I can’t imagine— I can’t believe that, even now, she isn’t. That’s how I know that she’s always with me. The mark… it’s just a reminder.”

Sebastian’s sobbing subsides as he pulls away his hand from his brother’s arm, and looks at the rune. He knows it’s just a reminder, but he wants it too. He needs it too. He believes Jace’s words, if Jace says Clary’s with them it must be true – he needs it to be true, what’s the point of having avenged her if he cannot have her love? In death, if not in life – but he needs something physical, something to look at, something to cling to. Jace alone is not enough. And he _shouldn’t_ be enough. It wouldn’t be right to ask him to be. 

So he pulls up his sleeve, showing his forearm. He looks at his brother, tears quickly drying in his eyes. “I want the mark too,” he says, “I want you to do it.”

Jace looks at him silently for a few seconds, before nodding. He reaches for his clothes, orderly folded on an armchair next to the bed, and retrieves his stele. He holds Sebastian by his wrist, looking down at his pale skin. “Your skin looks exactly like Clary’s,” he says in a whisper, as if amazed at himself for only noticing now. Then his lips curl into a tiny smile. “This is the first one, right?” he asks, “The first mark after you’ve been freed.”

Sebastian nods slowly, looking down at his arm too. It’s covered in white marks, the shadows of his old runes. He wasn’t giving any importance to the fact of being marked again, up until a minute ago, but Jace’s words force him to. “Yes,” he says. Then he adds, “Honestly… I thought I didn’t want anything to do with it anymore. I didn’t want to be marked again. I didn’t want to be with the Nephilim. I didn’t want… I didn’t even want to live in Idris.” He looks up at Jace, his lips trembling a little. “Is it weak of me to want to go back?”

Jace offers him half a smile, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t know,” he says, “If I were you, I wouldn’t care.”

Sebastian nods again, as Jace presses the stele against his skin. The mark glows red as Jace draws it in swift, precise movements. Sebastian’s not alone. His brother and sister are with him both.


End file.
